Chapter 37
"Shit!" Ianto was furious. Time and time again Jack did this, disappear rather than asking for help or support from those around him. He slammed his hand into the door, his anger making him forget the state it was in until the pain from the abused flesh tore a scream from his throat.
Owen thought better of offering medical assistance, he was just as pissed off as Ianto and sympathised with his frustration.
"Fucking brilliant. We're locked down here and he's buggered off to fuck knows where! Bollocks."
"I don't suppose you lot have got a computer interface anywhere down here?" John Hart called out urgently.
"Why?" Ianto shook his head and wondered if it would make anything any worse than it already was if they just shot the bastard and got it over and done with.
"Because we could check for heat signatures, that's why - like we did to find you. That way we can find out if he's still in your base." John spun on his heel and shoved his face in Ianto's, seeking a confrontation, anything to break the tension. A scrap, that's what he needed, he was sure he could goad Ianto into a fight, he looked like he wanted to kill somebody. "Of course, I wouldn't put it past him to have completely lost it and left the fucking planet."
Ianto resisted the urge to add to the cuts and bruises littering Hart's face, despite the provocation of those sharp cheekbones and smug grin. Instinct told him that it wouldn't have been what Jack would have wanted.
"Actually that's a good idea." Ianto frowned; worried that he was sensing logic in Hart's suggestion. "But, unfortunately there aren't any networked computers down here, too high a risk of accidentally triggering an explosion."
John swore and then took a moment to take in Ianto's dishevelled appearance and catching sight of the blood stains on his shirt, felt obliged to pass comment.
"I shot Gray in the head, so how come you've got blood all over your shirt … you bleeding?"
"Just a bit." Ianto rolled his eyes in exasperation as he glanced down at the front of his shirt. "It's not serious-"
"Let me be the judge of that," growled Owen. He quickly walked across from where he was standing close by in case he had to separate Ianto and Hart. He'd every intention of letting Ianto beat Hart to a pulp if it made him feel better, but he'd intervene if it looked like his colleague was in danger of getting hurt himself. Batting Ianto's hands out of the way he pulled apart the remaining buttons of the ripped shirt to check on the extent of the damage. He was relieved that the sword had missed the dressing on the wound acquired in the Iron Age. However, blood was still welling up in the thin cut that ran diagonally across the ribcage and the drying stains on what had once been a white shirt showed where the sliced flesh had bled more freely initially. Owen realised that Ianto had been deliberately hiding the injury, from him and, more significantly, from Jack. "You'll live. There's such a high level of antibiotics in your system it's not likely to get infected. But we need to get that covered up soon, a gash like that will only get the girls worried." In a rare display of diplomacy, Owen didn't mention Jack.
"Says the man with the hand that could be on display at the Tate Modern." Ianto pointed meaningfully at the back of Owen's hand that Gray had cut wide open. The gaping wound looked like an exhibit from a medical museum.
"Gray's handiwork I take it?" John Hart asked, shaking his head as if despairing of an unruly pet with violent tendencies. "Sadistic bastard always was a terror with that fucking sword… still got the scars to show for it."
Before there was any suggestion of comparing scars, Ianto pulled the remnants of his shirt about his chest and attempted to tuck the loose ends into the front of his jeans.
"Owen, did you speak to Tosh?"
"Yeah – she's on her way to reverse the lockdown, so I guess we should make our way back?"
"Not yet." Ianto sighed. Despite an urge to hunt down the nearest computer and search for Jack, there were other matters to deal with as well. "We have to make sure all those devices are stabilised and locked away again."
Practical considerations always provided Ianto with a means to avoid dealing with problems he had no control over. Jack came under that category and the current circumstances forced Ianto to seek any distraction that came to hand. He daren't consider where Jack had gone, or when for that matter. The suspicion that he wasn't enough to help Jack get through this and that he'd decided to go elsewhere for help or comfort left him feeling even more bereft. The only silver lining to the massive dark cloud that reached from one horizon to the other was the fact that Jack wasn't with his ex. At least not this particular time traveller, which then led his mind down another avenue of thought that pointed to one other person Jack would turn to. Someone who'd not played a role in the death of his brother. And if that's who Jack had gone to, there was nothing he could do about it.
John Hart and Owen both waited patiently as they watched Ianto scan the room slowly, his thoughts evidently miles away from the issue of the numerous explosive devices set up like decorations about the storage facility.
"Right," Ianto took a deep breath as he refocused on the job at hand. He pointed at Hart first. "You can make yourself useful and make a start on collecting those devices and bringing them here to me. I'll make sure they're as safe as possible and Owen, you can put them in the containers. OK?"
"You trusting him to help?" Owen waved a hand in John Hart's general direction, wondering if he should've checked Ianto's temperature.
"For some inexplicable reason, yes I am." Ianto shrugged and sadly shook his head. "There's not much left to lose, Owen."
As soon as she'd heard from Owen, Tosh had rushed off to speak to Gwen, who wasn't answering her comm. She found her co-ordinating the evacuation of the area with a couple of uniformed policemen, one with fair, curly hair who was quite tall and a nondescript chubby man, who kept shaking his head as if to say 'can't be done'. Rhys was standing behind her, his hands on his hips looking particularly belligerent.
"Gwen, I've heard from Owen – we're going back in, come on!"
As soon as she'd dismissed the bemused policemen, Gwen demanded that Tosh fill her in on the details as they hastily made their way back to the Tourist Office entrance. They could hardly take the lift when the Plass was under such close scrutiny by the emergency services, Gwen having used the pretext of an unexploded bomb in the sewers as a means of securing an immediate evacuation of the area.
Tosh took a deep breath so that she could convey all the relevant factual information without interruption. As she imparted each detail, from John's shooting of Gray to Jack's breakdown, she could see Gwen's eyes get steadily bigger. Gradually, they brimmed over with tears that spilled over and ran down her cheeks, carrying traces of black mascara with them.
"Oh my God!"
Gwen's predictably heartfelt response was accompanied by a solemn look on Rhys' face.
"Oh shit, he must be gutted," Rhys sighed. "I can't imagine how he must be feeling… seeing his brother getting killed an' all."
It struck Tosh that, despite Jack's constant assertions that Gwen provided Torchwood with much needed humanity, she owed a lot of that to Rhys. Even though his reactions were more understated, they were just as sincere. He genuinely looked like he could empathise with Jack's loss. She sensed that family meant a lot to Rhys.
"Right then." Gwen rubbed her eyes with the back of her sleeve and then sniffed loudly preparing herself for action. "Jack won't be in any state to make decisions, someone has to take charge for the time being and seeing as-"
"No, Gwen – let's find out what's happening first. Before any decisions are made, we need to regroup. Owen said they're all trapped in the lower levels. We've got to get them out of there." Tosh bristled slightly at the unspoken assumptions made by Gwen that she was the natural successor to Jack's position if he wasn't able to take command. Yes, she'd done a good job after Jack left with the Doctor that time, but Owen hadn't been in a fit state to cope then, not after everything he'd gone through. Her mind flitted through memories of Diane, weevil fight club, a mutiny and a demon – she'd tried to be there for him, but he'd been impossible to get through to. And then there was Ianto, he was a much stronger man than he'd been back then. Either of them would be as competent as Gwen at leading Torchwood if ever it came to that.
"Of course." Gwen bit back a retort, belatedly sensing the urgent tone in Tosh's voice. "Come on. You too, Rhys, stay close to me."
Gwen grabbed hold of her husband's hand. If she couldn't lead Torchwood, she could at least take care of Rhys.
As the door locks eventually clicked open, Tosh sighed with relief. She'd called Owen back on the line he'd used, but his replies to her questions had been brief and to the point, only confirming that they'd make their way back to the doorway that opened into the central area of the archives. She'd picked up on the tension in the curt conversation, as if there were things Owen wanted to say but felt he couldn't- she would wait patiently until they could speak in person.
First through the door was an anxious looking Ianto, eyes downcast as if avoiding looking any of them directly. He seemed intent on heading straight for a workstation without saying a word to anyone.
That wasn't acceptable to Gwen who rushed forward, intent on getting his attention.
"Ianto, thank God you're OK-"
Her platitudes were put on hold when Ianto finally looked up at her. His expression was gaunt; he looked close to complete exhaustion. A more thorough scrutiny revealed the multiple blood stains on his shirt. Gwen thought they must have come from Gray's body. She could just imagine that, Ianto dashing forward trying in vain to save the life of Jack's brother. Obviously he must have failed and that would explain why he looked so completely devastated.
"Ianto, love, it's alright. I'm sure you did what you could." Gwen hugged him gently and looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Jack close behind. But there was no sight of him. She only saw Owen holding a gun pointed to John Hart's head as he motioned him to move towards a chair.
"Got any cuffs down here, Ianto? I don't want to know what you might use them for, just tell me where they might be."
Ianto bit his tongue, wondering what could possess Owen to think he'd keep handcuffs in the archives. He sighed heavily and looked to one side.
"Top drawer on the right hand side, at the back."
"Thanks. Tosh, do me the honours would you?" Owen nodded in the direction of the small, antique desk and then at John Hart.
"I'm not one to moan about a bit of bondage – well that's not exactly true –"
"Shut up." Ianto turned to face John Hart and gave him a glare that managed to instantly achieve the other man's co-operation.
"Ianto, love, where's Jack?" asked Gwen nervously. "Is he still down there? With Gray?"
"No." Ianto pressed his lips firmly together as he prepared for the onslaught of questions and accusations that he'd been dreading.
"But- ?" Gwen looked confused.
"He went. Disappeared. Again."
"What? How … I mean, I thought you were locked in."
"Vortex manipulator – he used my wrist strap." John Hart added helpfully, although the evil glare that Gwen spared him didn't suggest she was particularly grateful.
"Ianto - where did he go?" Gwen thought that if Ianto could tell her where to find Jack she could go to him and comfort him. She really believed she could get through to him.
"How the fuck should I know?" Ianto yelled back at Gwen, knowing he shouldn't take out his frustrations on her, but unable to hold back. "Contrary to what you think, he doesn't actually tell me everything. Sometimes I feel that I barely know him."
"Oh my God, you don't think he's gone off to find … you know… him? His doctor?"
"I wouldn't blame him if he had … not this time. There's nothing to keep him here."
"Ianto?" Tosh looked up from where she was helping Owen secure Hart to a chair. "Jack wouldn't just leave, not like that. You didn't see him when he thought he'd lost you and Gwen…"
"That was before I held a gun at his kid brother's head with every intention of killing him. Jack saw that - so I don't suppose he'll be quite so keen on my company now."
"What the hell were you thinking?" exclaimed Gwen. Her mind was reeling at this revelation. She couldn't imagine what had been going through Ianto's head. He must have known what effect that would have had on his relationship with Jack. She'd always thought Jack was the one to ride roughshod over Ianto's heart, with no consideration for how his actions would affect the younger man. But now …
"That doesn't matter any more – anyway, John beat me to it." Ianto tried to turn away, to put an end to this discussion that was going nowhere, but Gwen grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him around to face her once more.
"It bloody well does matter – did you know it was Gray that'd be down here? Did you go after him deliberately?"
"That really is none of your business." Ianto shook off Gwen's hand, but didn't back away from her, refusing to be intimidated.
"If it's the reason Jack's pissed off and left me … us again, it is my business!" Gwen spat the words in his face, furious at the thought that Jack had left Torchwood.
"His brother is dead. It doesn't matter who pulled the fucking trigger! Or why. And Jack's gone - "
Gwen was close enough to see the pain in Ianto's eyes. She could also sense that he was holding back, not telling her everything.
"I thought we were close – after all we went through." Gwen's voice softened, but became no less persistent. She reached out to take his hand in hers. "I thought you knew you could talk to me. Come on, Ianto – what's really going on?"
Rhys had been standing in the background watching the drama unfold. Owen and Tosh were busy cuffing John Hart to a chair, taking longer over it than strictly necessary, no doubt as a strategy for staying out of the argument. Gwen was standing so close to Ianto, that there was barely room to pass a sheet of paper between them.
The way Gwen used to talk about Ianto affectionately always made it sound like she thought of him as a little brother, even though Rhys did suspect she resented the fact that he was spending more and more time with Jack. She'd mentioned to him that Jack didn't seem to confide in her as much as he used to and that she assumed he was telling all his secrets to Ianto. That had come as a relief to Rhys, he'd had to deal with the aftermath of Jack revealing more of the horrors of their world to Gwen. She wasn't the same woman anymore.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, Rhys curled his fingers about the stun gun Jack had given him. He thought back to what Jack had said to him when he'd shown him how to use it in the armoury. Despite what Ianto may think, Rhys had recognised the fierce loyalty and devotion that Jack demonstrated when he'd threatened him if he made any moves to hurt Ianto. And it didn't take a mastermind to figure out that whatever Ianto had done, his motives weren't selfish, he'd have done it for Jack. They probably didn't get around to saying it to each other very often, if at all, but it was pretty bloody obvious to him that they loved each other with a passion and that there was no way Jack would just up and leave Ianto. No more than Rhys would desert Gwen. No matter how much she really pissed him off sometimes. Like now.
"Gwen, love, leave the man alone."
Deep in the bowels of the Hub, a lone figure stooped over a drawer to one of the compartments in the morgue. The body he was attending to had been cleaned and dressed in fresh clothes. The hair had been brushed back from the face that was no longer distorted with anger. The fists had been unclenched before rigor mortis had the chance to set in and the limbs straightened. A pile of blood-soaked clothing lay in a heap on the ground, set aside and ignored as were the sins committed by this poor deranged soul.
Jack fussed around with the white shroud, unwilling to completely shut away the body of his brother. He'd had to do this alone, he didn't want anyone else touching Gray, not now, this was his last duty and responsibility to the brother he'd let down. Although this needn't be the last time he saw him, he knew that once he pushed the drawer back into place, he'd seal it permanently. He needed to put all of this behind him, for the sake of the others who'd suffered because of his actions as a child. They deserved better.
Leaning down to press a kiss to the cheek of Gray, a tear dripping from his face onto the pale flesh of his only sibling, he told him for the last time that he was sorry. And he was, so very sorry.